


Stars and Stripes

by thecommodore_squid (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, But Not For Our Main Characters, Death, Genocide, I Promise There Will Be Fluff in the Future, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Just not yet, M/M, Oh Boy This is Gonna Get Dark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So Buckle Up Children, Soldier Steve Rogers, The Holocaust, anti-Semitism, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thecommodore_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not trying to prove them wrong for <em>their</em> sakes, Rivkah. I’m trying to prove them wrong to help myself believe that we are better than they say we are. Not succumbing to their perceptions of us means they’re bigoted and we’re strong.”</p><p>“Who cares about being strong? It’s war.”</p><p>Bucky had never thought of it that way.</p><p>AKA<br/>An AU in which Bucky is a victim of the Holocaust and Steve is an American soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars and Stripes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. There's a few things to cover before we dive into the story.
> 
> Bucky lives in a city in Romania (that is now in Ukraine) called either Chernivtsi or Czernowitz. I did do a fair amount of research before beginning to write this fic, but please tell me if there's anything glaringly wrong in here. I have no illusions that everything is historically accurate, although I tried my best. That being said, I am going to intentionally change some things throughout this story in order for me to be able to tell the story I want to tell.
> 
> I know this is going to be kind of a turn-off for some, but Steve is not in the first chapter. I'm sorry for that. But I need them both to get to where they need to be before they actually meet. I hope it's a conciliation that my idea right now for their first meeting is pretty intense.
> 
> Also. Some vocabulary that you should probably be aware of before beginning to read.
> 
> Tatti and Mami means Daddy and Mommy in Yiddish. Bucky's first language in this fic is Yiddish. You can assume that in the first chapter, everything that is unspecified as far as language is concerned is in Yiddish. For this reason, I changed Rebecca's name to Rivkah and Bucky's name from James to Yaakov. His family calls him Yaakov. The word "zhidan" is Romanian slang for a dirty/cheap Jew. It's pretty much exactly as offensive as the American equivalent.
> 
> This fic is going to get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. That I can promise you. But there are some dark things we will need to deal with first.
> 
> Anyways. Now that that's out of the way.
> 
> Comments and kudos are what keep me going. All mistakes are my own, and let me know (nicely- I am a very delicate person) if you spot any glaring errors.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy.

It was his sister, every single time.

 

Rivkah smirked at him, placing her hands on her narrow hips. “Come on.”

 

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head, trying to smother a smile. “You know it’s dangerous.”

 

Rivkah shrugged. “And you know that just makes it more fun. Come _onnn_ , Yaakov. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

The smile faded from Bucky’s face as he recalled everything at stake. “You could be shot in the head.”

 

“That’s only a rumor.”

 

“Just like it’s only a rumor that Germans have been killing Jews since before the war even started.”

 

Rivkah winced. “They wouldn’t know I’m Jewish just from looking at me.”

 

Bucky gave Rivkah a pointed once-over, taking in her dark, curly hair, her olive skin, her hooked nose. “Really,” he deadpanned.

 

“Not everyone knows what a Jew looks like.”

 

“Really? We’ve been pretty famous lately, and people are hugely prejudiced,” Bucky shot back. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look. You know it’s dangerous. You just want to flirt with the soldiers.”

 

Rivkah rolled her eyes. “In my defense, did you see how muscular they are?”

 

Bucky had noticed the incredible physique of the soldiers that had arrived today. Perhaps he had noticed the physique too acutely. He shrank in on himself. “I’m not helping you sneak out.”

 

“ _Tatti_ and _Mami_ are asleep,” Rivkah said. “Lizaveta is too. They won’t notice if we’re gone for an hour.”

 

Bucky’s resolve was starting to wear thin. “I...”

 

“Admit it. You’re curious too.”

 

Bucky wasn’t curious. He’d learned to stay away from soldiers the first time a Russian soldier had spat in his face. But he also had a difficult time from preventing Rivkah from doing whatever the fuck she wanted. He sighed. “Twenty minutes. Then we’re coming straight back home.”

 

Rivkah beamed at him.

 

Bucky wished his resolve were firmer.

 

Rivkah led the way out of the house, long skirt swishing with her gait. Bucky put his hat on and followed her, glancing around anxiously.

 

He used to be less anxious all the time.

 

Rivkah paused and turned around, motioning for him to follow. Bucky took a deep breath and caught up with her, grabbing her hand. “You big baby,” Rivkah whispered, giving his fingers a squeeze.

 

“You know I’m scared of the dark,” Bucky joked, trying to force his mood to lighten.

 

“Like I said. Big baby.”

 

Bucky swallowed roughly, his eyes scanning the dark streets. There were a few people out. Mostly Romanians. Why did _Tatti_ insist that they continue living in the Romanian part of the city? Why didn’t he let them move to the Jewish quarter where it was safer?

 

Rivkah led them to one of the inns that they’d seen the soldiers go into. _Tatti_ had said he’d heard they were Germans. Avi, his friend from the factory, had said they were Romanians. Bucky didn’t know what to believe anymore.

 

Rivkah opened the door to the inn, and the innkeeper glared at her. “No _zhidans_ here,” he said in Romanian.

 

Bucky flinched and took a step backwards. Rivkah just crossed her arms and said, “Tell me why the soldiers are here.”

 

The innkeeper rolled his eyes. “No one knows or cares.” He lifted up a big telephone. “Now, get out of here before I have to wake them up and forcibly remove you from the premises.”

 

Rivkah curtseyed, somehow making the motion sassy. “Have a good evening, sir.” She turned around and linked arms with Bucky as they left the inn.

 

“That was your plan?” Bucky hissed when they were a street away. “Talk to the Romanian innkeeper?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I didn’t have time to really rationalize,” Rivkah said with a little shrug. “Besides, it’s not like he can do anything to us. He’d have to tell the soldiers that he allowed a couple of filthy _zhidans_ on premise, and he’d lose business.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Bucky snapped.

 

“What? _Zhidan_?” Rivkah said sarcastically, making sure to intentionally draw the word out.

 

“Do you know what that means?”

 

“Of course I do,” Rivkah sighed, looking incredibly fucking tired for a fraction of a second before she composed herself. “You know what the entire world thinks of us. We may as well use it to our advantage.”

 

“Or try to prove them wrong.”

 

“Like you said, Yaakov. People are prejudiced. They won’t change their minds just because you aren’t as horrible as the rest of the filthy Jews.”

 

Bucky stared at his feet. They’d both acquired a sense of cynicism because of... everything. But this was the most serious he’d ever seen Rivkah get over the whole Jews versus the World thing.

 

It wasn’t like Bucky didn’t agree with her. Prejudice didn’t just go away. But... “I’m not trying to prove them wrong for _their_ sakes, Rivkah. I’m trying to prove them wrong to help myself believe that we are better than they say we are. Not succumbing to their perceptions of us means they’re bigoted and we’re strong.”

 

“Who cares about being strong? It’s war.”

 

Bucky had never thought of it that way.

 

They slipped back into their house quietly. The walls were so thin that they were basically nonexistent, and if they made any noise, it may wake the three other inhabitants of the household.

 

Rivkah removed her scarf while Bucky put his hat by the door. They silently walked into the room they shared with Lizaveta, who continued to sleep.

 

God, she was so _small_. Bucky wondered how anyone could believe the shit they said about Jews when the most pure fucking angel existed in his family.

 

Rivkah changed into her underclothes and curled on the floor next to Lizaveta. Lizaveta murmured something indistinct and rolled over, an arm going across Rivkah’s stomach. Rivkah smiled down at her as Bucky finished dressing down.

 

Bucky found his blanket on the opposite side of the room and turned his back to his sisters as he settled down for sleep, anxiety churning in his gut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s both,” Avi declared the next time Bucky saw him.

 

“What?”

 

“The soldiers. They’re Romanians _and_ Germans.”

 

“Shit. Why?”

 

Avi shrugged, his expression dark. “Follow the rumors.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rumors went like this:

 

There was a massacre going on in Germany and Poland. Romania was next.

 

The Allies were fighting for freedom. The Allies were going to rescue them eventually.

 

Hitler was going to get to them first.

 

Romanians were condemning the Jews to die.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Tatti_ was sitting at the kitchen table when Bucky got home from work, his skin sticky with summer sweat.

 

“What’re you doing home so early?” Bucky asked, pouring a glass of water.

 

“I was fired.”

 

Bucky nodded. This wasn’t a terribly unusual circumstance. “Ah.”

 

He remembered the first time his father had been fired. He’d worked for the bank because their family had been bankers for as long as anyone could remember. He’d been fired because Jews couldn’t be trusted with money.

 

It was normal now.

 

 _Tatti_ stretched a little bit. “How was work?”

 

“Avi says the soldiers are German and Romanian.”

 

“Ah,” his father said, sounding resigned. “That can’t be good for us, then.”

 

“No,” Bucky agreed.

 

 _Tatti_ looked up at him, and he looked so thin and tired. “Will you do your best to keep your sisters and your _Mami_ safe?”

 

Bucky licked his lips nervously. “You know I will.”

 

Some tension drained from his shoulders. “Good, good.”

 

Bucky put his cup away and said, “I’m going to see if Lizaveta needs any help with school work.”

 

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

The streets were saying that the Romanian soldiers had dragged members of the intelligentsia out of their homes and shot them in the head.

 

His mother forced Lizaveta and Rivkah to stay home.

 

“ _Mami_ , this is ridiculous. Who’s gonna give a shit about some dirt-poor Jews? They only murdered the important ones.”

 

“Rivkah,” _Mami_ snapped, her eyes burning with rage, her mouth tight, “Apologize.”

 

Rivkah’s mouth clicked shut. “Sorry,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“ _Mami_ is right,” Bucky said and was met with his mother’s relieved gaze and Rivkah’s righteous fury. “It’s too dangerous.”

 

Lizaveta frowned, sulking deeply from her place on the floor. “Why? We’re just little kids.”

 

Bucky, Rivkah, and _Mami_ exchanged anxious glances. “They don’t see you that way,” _Mami_ finally said.

 

“Why?” Lizaveta said, pouting, crossing her little arms.

 

Bucky looked away, pained, and _Mami_ said, “They look at us and only see the Jews who ruined the banks.”

 

Lizaveta wrinkled her nose in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

 

“Yeah, neither do I,” Rivkah huffed with a little angry sigh.

 

“Yaakov, you better hurry to work,” _Mami_ said, fear lighting her eyes. “We only have one source of income right now.”

 

Bucky nodded and pulled on his hat. “I’ll be home by ten.” He’d picked up longer hours since _Tatti_ had been fired again.

 

“Be safe.”

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tension crackled through the streets, soldiers eyeing the pedestrians warily. But their family didn’t live in the Jewish quarter, so it probably wasn’t as bad.

 

It still _felt_ bad, though.

 

* * *

 

 

“They’ve killed the Rabbis.”

 

Bucky wiped his forehead, trying to get the sweat to stop dripping into his eyes. “Think we should say Kaddish?” he asked, trying for a light tone but failing epically.

 

Avi grimaced. “Maybe not in public,” he muttered, eyes darting to the soldiers and Romanians around them.

 

Bucky swallowed heavily and kept his head down.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky stood behind Rivkah as they entered the Temple, Bucky keeping his head down, Rivkah jutting her chin out challengingly.

 

Inside, they were all greeted with hushed, somber voices and worried gazes, all of which were very poorly hidden under thin smiles.

 

A few men stood by some crates, a line beginning to form in front of them.

 

Rivkah marched into line, and Bucky followed, trying not to feel ashamed. Or worse- afraid.

 

The line moved along pretty quickly.

 

When Rivkah got to the front, a man greeted her with sad eyes and reached into the crate, offering her the rough patch of fabric.

 

Rivkah squared her shoulders and gritted her teeth as she took the badge with deliberate movements, righteous fury barely restrained.

 

The man patted her on the shoulder in a half-hearted, conciliatory manner. Rivkah stepped to the side, grinding her teeth together.

 

Bucky took a step forward, not meeting the man’s sympathetic eyes. When Bucky made no movement to take the badge, he leaned forward and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, placing it there for him and closing his fingers around it. Bucky chanced a glance up.

 

“This does not mean it’s the end.”

 

Bucky swallowed roughly and exited the line, staring down at the fabric. A yellow Star of David surrounded by black. A marker for them all to stand out.

 

He placed it on the left side of his chest with a slight shake to his hands.

 

He knew he didn’t exactly look Aryan, but his eyes had been able to mislead people into not thinking he was Jewish right away before. “Blessed blue eyes,” _Mami_ had called them, winking with a knowing look to her own blue eyes.

 

“That’s not fair,” Rivkah had huffed in response, “Why does he get to be the semi-perfect one?”

 

“Not perfect, Rivkah,” Bucky had said, a little bit smugly. “You’re forgetting my hair. And my Jew-ness.” His voice had been light. This was before the rumors of persecution had started to become a little bit more concrete.

 

“You know what I mean,” Rivkah had muttered.

 

Now, Rivkah stood tensely at his side, crushing the badge in her fist, looking so Jewish that Bucky was automatically a little bit afraid before his brain reminded him that he was inside a goddamn Temple and they all looked fucking Jewish.

 

Bucky gently unfolded Rivkah’s fist and extracted the badge. They both looked at it dispassionately as Bucky carefully pinned it to Rivkah’s shirt.

 

Rivkah looked at him with a darkness in her expression that he’d never seen before. “Shall we go?”

 

Bucky nodded and linked their arms. They walked out of the crowded Temple, meeting the solemn nods that were sent their way.

 

When they got home, their parents greeted them with watery, tragic smiles, their own badges pinned to their chests. They didn’t say anything about it, though.

 

But Rivkah was still furious, and that night, she punched the wall so hard that it made a hole. Bucky hissed in surprise and rushed over to her, grabbing her hand and inspecting bloody knuckles as Rivkah vibrated with rage.

 

Bucky cleaned the cuts as Rivkah tried to calm down.

 

“They’re taking away our goddamn humanity,” she finally choked out.

 

Bucky pressed his lips together to keep the panic down. It stayed lodged in his throat. All he could do was slowly nod his head.

 

They both glanced over at Lizaveta, the heaviest fucking sleeper in the world. She didn’t deserve to live in a world like this. Worse, she didn’t understand why the world was like this.

 

Bucky got to his feet and moved one of the few pictures on the walls so that it would cover the hole. Rivkah gave him a grateful, tired look and sank down to the floor.

 

“We should run away. All of us,” she said when they were both lying down again, neither of them looking at each other.

 

“Where would we go?” Bucky asked bitterly. “In case you haven’t noticed, Germany isn’t the only place that hates Jews.”

 

Rivkah sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe Jerusalem would be better.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I hear it’s okay in America too.”

 

“I don’t know if anywhere is ‘okay,’ Rivkah.”

 

“You’re too cynical, Yaakov.”

 

“I have good reason.”

 

“You do.” They tapered off into silence for a long time.

 

Bucky eventually sighed.

 

Rivkah took this as an invitation to continue the conversation. “How do you think we’d escape?”

 

She was talking about the city. About Romania in general. About the rumors and the persecution. “Probably through Russia,” Bucky said, humoring her.

 

“Russian soldiers were here a while ago. They hated us too.”

 

“Yeah, but less than the fucking Germans.”

 

“True.” Rivkah shifted. “They wouldn’t make us wear fucking badges.”

 

Bucky blinked at the ceiling. “Lizaveta would learn Russian the fastest.”

 

“Probably. You wouldn’t be far behind, though. You’re crazy-good at languages.”

 

Bucky smiled. It felt like the first time he’d smiled in a while. “I’m never gonna let you forget that one time you accidentally called Benjamin your girlfriend in German.”

 

Rivkah groaned. “Don’t remind me. I _suck_ at German.”

 

“I’m aware,” Bucky said, huffing a laugh.

 

“Don’t act like you’re king of German either. I know you just stick _das_ in front of Romanian words when you don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

“It makes me sound like I know what I’m talking about. How can you question me when I say ‘ _das lampant_ ’?”

 

“The kerosene?” Rivkah said, trying to smother her laugher. “ _That’s_ the example you’re going with?”

 

Bucky grinned. “It works most of the time.”

 

“I know. And it sickens me.”

 

“What can I say? I’m an excellent bullshitter.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

They fell silent again, and the mood faded to something more serious again.

 

“Hey,” Rivkah said. “Thank you.”

 

Bucky closed his eyes. “No need for that.”

 

He could picture Rivkah’s frown. “No. I’m serious.”

 

Bucky rubbed his face. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Get some sleep.”

 

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

 

The humidity of summer started to fade, and with the change of the winds came the escalation of everything awful.

 

The smell was the worst part.

 

Bucky would wake up gagging, the scent of fire and something burning suffocating him so firmly that he thought the Nazis had finally come for their family.

 

But no. The smell was just _that bad_.

 

Lizaveta cried the first time she smelled it, clapping her hands over her face and whimpering, “What _is_ that?”

 

Nobody wanted to tell her. “They’re burning animals,” _Tatti_ finally said. And it didn’t even feel like a lie.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Bucky excused himself and locked himself inside the bathroom. He sat down on the floor and muffled his tears. Fuck, he’d never wanted to know what burning flesh smelled like.

 

After a while, there as a knock on the door. Bucky composed himself as best as he could and opened it.

 

 _Mami_ watched him with sad eyes and drew him into a tight hug. Bucky shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. She stroked a hand through his hair. “You’re so young,” she said. “I wish you didn’t have to see this. Smell this.”

 

Bucky didn’t look up. “I’m twenty-five. People younger than me are at war right now.”

 

“That doesn’t change the fact. None of you should have to be living through this.”

 

“Life isn’t fair, _Mami_.”

 

“I wish it was.”

 

Bucky extracted himself from her embrace after a long moment, taking a deep breath.

 

 _Mami_ regarded him seriously. She cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Yaakov.”

 

“Yeah?” he managed roughly.

 

“You are stronger than you think.”

 

With that, she stepped away, smoothed down her skirt, and walked back into the living area.

 

Bucky took another moment to collect himself before he pulled on his hat and got ready to leave. “I’m going to work,” he called.

 

“You have your badge?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Be careful!”

 

Bucky forced all the pressing thoughts out of his head and stepped into the street.

 

If he thought the smell inside was bad, it was even worse out here.

 

The acrid scent burned into his nostrils and brought tears to his eyes. He choked on his next breath, put his head down, and walked to the factory as unobtrusively as possible.

 

The scent of rot came a few hours later.

 

“Are they just leaving the animals out there in the sun?” Lizaveta asked, annoyed.

 

Rivkah gritted her teeth and said, “It appears so.”

 

“It smells _yucky_.”

 

“I know, darling,” _Tatti_ said. “We’ll get you something to put over your nose when you sleep.”

 

Bucky didn’t sleep that night. He kept thinking that he was hearing screams or thinking that the crackle of fire was at their house now. But, they all lasted the night.

 

Bucky didn’t know anymore if that was a blessing or a curse.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m just saying,” Rivkah was complaining, “we’ve never even _done_ anything.”

 

Bucky rubbed his temples. “We’ve been over this. They do not give a single fuck.”

 

“I’m _angry_.”

 

“Gee, I haven’t noticed,” Bucky said dryly.

 

Rivkah ignored him, passing him an apple as they walked home, Bucky trying to look unassuming, Rivkah walking with her head held high, the yellow star on her blouse sticking out like the full moon on a clear night. Bucky took a bite of the apple. “I just wish I could understand better.”

 

“It’s pretty simple. Everyone needs someone to blame. We’re not the first example, you know.”

 

Rivkah glared at him. “Fuck off.”

 

“What? You want examples?” Bucky asked, wanting to argue with her for once.

 

“No,” she snapped. “I’m not an idiot. I know this massacre isn’t like a special massacre or anything. It’s probably like all other massacres. But I hate it.”

 

“You’re allowed to hate it.”

 

Rivkah sighed tiredly. “At least it’s not just Jews.”

 

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked with a frown.

 

“I mean, they’re just rumors, but what rumors haven’t proved true lately?”

 

Bucky nodded. “So, who else?”

 

“The homosexuals, for one.”

 

Bucky stared at his feet. Well. _Two for two_ , he thought anxiously.

 

“Political opponents. Obviously. I think the communists. Maybe there are others that we haven’t heard about. We can probably just assume it’s everybody who isn’t Aryan or perfect.”

 

“That’s a lot of people.”

 

“No shit. But Jews are probably the least Aryan-slash-perfect people in the bunch, so we got the short end of the stick.”

 

Bucky licked his lips. He was so going to die. There was absolutely no chance that he was not going to die in this war.

 

He racked his brain and tried to cast his mind back to a single worthwhile thing he’d done in his life- something that would make it all worth it.

 

He came up blank.

 

That was probably what made the whole situation unbearable to think about.

 

He really was insignificant. Soon, he’d just be another number in a long list of casualties. Maybe he’d even be one of the dead bodies that statisticians accidentally missed. That’d be fucking fitting.

 

“You’re getting morbid again,” Rivkah said, nudging him.

 

“When am I not morbid?”

 

“Point taken.”

 

If anyone deserved to survive this, it’d be Rivkah. Maybe if he could trade his life for hers, that’d make his entire insignificant existence worth it.

 

Rivkah tried to smile at him. It didn’t reach her eyes, but Bucky appreciated the effort nonetheless. “Let’s get back home,” she said.

 

Bucky absentmindedly traced over the cloth of his own yellow badge. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and he let his sister lead the way.

 

* * *

 

 

Lizaveta was going to find out something scary sooner or later. They’d all just been delaying the inevitable.

 

She came home from playing with her friends and sat down at the table in a highly uncharacteristic silence. Bucky finished measuring out meager supplies for what was going to be their dinner and turned to his little sister.

 

“What happened, Liza?” he asked, keeping his tone light and gentle with effort. It was getting harder and harder to do that lately.

 

Lizaveta sighed, rubbing her nose as if she was dealing with all of the world’s problems at once. She gave Bucky an indecipherable look and said, “There’s a bunch of dead bodies.”

 

Bucky jolted, so startled that he knocked into the cupboard and immediately bruised his elbow. “I- what?”

 

Lizaveta’s lip trembled, and she bit back tears. “We were playing,” she began, her voice starting to get thicker and higher with belated panic, “and- and- we- we saw-“ She hiccupped, trying to fight tears. “They were trying to bury them, but there wasn’t enough space, and they smelled so bad, Yaakov, they smelled so bad, and they looked so gross, like they were purple and fat, and I was so _scared_ -“

 

Bucky shoved down his own bolt of fear and knelt down next to Lizaveta, smoothing her hair out of her face and wiping at the fat tears. He made some soothing noises, but he didn’t know what he could even say in this situation.

 

“Are we gonna die?” she asked in her tiniest voice, fear in her wide eyes as she clutched Bucky’s arm.

 

Bucky swallowed heavily. “No, Liza, no. I’m not gonna let that happen,” he whispered, knowing he couldn’t keep that promise if it actually came down to it. Hell, he’d fucking _try_ , though.

 

Lizaveta dropped her head, pressing her chin against her chest. “Is there a way to keep them away?” she managed.

 

“Who?”

 

“The bad guys.”

 

Bucky closed his eyes briefly before he tapped Lizaveta’s chin. She reluctantly looked up at him. “You fight them by proving them wrong, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she whispered.

 

“The soldiers here are all gonna think you’re guilty and bad and dangerous, but you’re going to do everything you can to be the best person you can be, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Bucky opened his arms up a little bit. “Hey. Come here.”

 

Lizaveta slid off the chair and buried herself in his arms, her small body shuddering quiet tears against him. Bucky held her and rubbed her back until she cried herself out, fading into the occasional, tired sniffle.

 

Bucky pulled back. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

 

She licked her lips. “Yeah.”

 

Lizaveta sat on the counter while Bucky finished cooking. When _Mami_ and Rivkah came home from running various errands, they shot Bucky a questioning look as to why Lizaveta was being so quiet and clingy (she was hanging onto Bucky’s arm, her fingers tight on his skin). Bucky just shook his head. He’d tell them later. No need for Lizaveta to relive that conversation.

 

They ate in near-silence.

 

* * *

 

 

One moment, things were bearable. The next, they simply weren’t.

 

Avi chewed his lip nervously, eyes darting around. “Word is they’re evacuating Jews all over Bukovina.”

 

Bucky hummed vaguely, only half-listening as he heaved a heavy rock.

 

“To camps in Transnistria.”

 

“Past that one river?” Bucky asked, thinking about the best approach to moving the rock.

 

“The Southern Bug River.”

 

Bucky nodded, rolling the rock over to get a better grip.

 

“Well?” Avi demanded, watching him anxiously.

 

Bucky just lifted a shoulder, feeling really fucking tired. “What do you want me to say? That I’m absolutely shocked?”

 

Avi glared at him. “Forget it.”

 

“No, really,” Bucky said, irritated now, voice dripping with sarcasm, “What kind of reaction did you want?”

 

“Maybe a little bit more concern for your wellbeing,” Avi snapped, and Bucky caught a glimpse of Avi’s own exhaustion too.

 

Bucky lifted the rock with a grunt. “I’m not scared to die, Avi.”

 

“I am.”

 

Bucky let out a breath. “You should come to terms with it a little bit. Doesn’t look like we have a lot of time left.”

 

* * *

 

 

October was fucking cold, and the winds whipped through the streets, setting Bucky’s teeth on edge. He shuffled home warily, watching as people tossed conspicuous glances at him. At the badge on his shirt.

 

Bucky ducked his head lower and hurried home.

 

“They’re deporting us, probably,” _Mami_ was saying as she hustled around the kitchen, stuffing everything she could find into a smallish bag.

 

Bucky frowned numbly at the display. “They can’t do that,” Rivkah snapped.

 

“Why not?” _Mami_ shot back bitterly. “And anyway, it’s better to be prepared than to be blindsided. I’d rather pack than do nothing at all.”

 

“Where’s Liza?” Bucky asked, taking a single slice of apple for his dinner.

 

“In our room,” Rivkah mumbled distractedly before returning to arguing. “We should resist. There’s a lot of Jews in Chernivtsi. We could put up a good fight.”

 

“That is not the _point_!”

 

Bucky glanced around the room. “Where’s _Tatti_?”

 

“Seeing if he can get any information from the soldiers about what’s going on,” _Mami_ replied, not looking at him.

 

“Then what is the point? We’re strong enough to try and put a stop to all this bloodshed.”

 

“Rivkah, you can’t solve this with futile resistance. It’s better to wait it out.”

 

“And what if they kill us? You’ll let that happen to Lizaveta? She’s eight years old!”

 

“They’re not going to kill Lizaveta.”

 

“What makes you so sure?” Rivkah said with this awful sneer.

 

“People have more goddamn humanity than that,” _Mami_ exploded.

 

Bucky stared out the window. “They don’t,” he mumbled, and both women turned to look at him. Bucky shrugged. “What? They don’t.” He took the rest of his apple slice and went to go sit on the steps outside. That would be better than listening to the argument.

 

He was sitting on the steps, trying not to think about anything, when a group of men rushed down the street. Bucky watched them with disinterest until they got closer and closer and were suddenly standing in front of Bucky.

 

“Yaakov, come quick,” said someone that Bucky vaguely recognized from Temple.

 

Bucky got to his feet slowly and was quickly yanked along by the familiar men.

 

He stumbled to a stop two blocks away, where a group of soldiers glared icily at a small crowd. “No talking,” one barked in German.

 

Through a daze, Bucky staggered towards the cluster of corpses on the ground.

 

He dropped to his knees, not even realizing it. “ _Tatti_?”

 

A hand gripped his shoulder. “He took off his badge right in front of them.”

 

Bucky stared down at his father’s face, slack and blank and unseeing. His eyes flicked down to look at his shirt. No yellow badge. That was grounds for deadly assault.

 

Bucky numbly touched the pulse point on his father’s neck.

 

Nothing.

 

The messy hole in _Tatti’s_ forehead gaped open and oozed with blood and brain matter and it was fucking messy- so fucking messy- who ever knew headshots could be so messy?

 

Bucky reached forward and touched the disgusting hole without thinking.

 

“No touching!” a soldier shouted in German.

 

Bucky’s hands were shaking. He grabbed _Tatti’s_ cheek and turned his head towards him.

 

“My father is dead,” Bucky said, hearing the words through thick layers of molasses.

 

“You’re not special. Everyone’s father is dead,” someone said from the vague crowd around him.

 

Bucky distantly realized that his body was shuddering. He pressed a hand down on _Tatti’s_ sternum. What had been the last words they exchanged?

 

 _“See you tonight,_ Tatti _.”_

_“Be careful, Yaakov.”_

 

A normal exchange. Nothing indicative of closure.

 

Nothing nothing nothingnothingnothingnothingnothingNOTHING

 

What would _Tatti’s_ life come to mean? He’d tossed his badge aside and got shot in the head for his petty attempt at resistance. He’d thrown everything away with that badge but what had he thrown away? What did his life mean?

 

Bucky knew the answer.

 

NothingNOTHINGNOTHING NOTHING

 

They were all nothing.

 

Dirt-poor Jews who used to be a family of bankers like every other goddamn Jewish family in the entire world. Jews who, like everyone else, were about to be the next pointless victims of a sweeping persecution.

 

And it was all meaningless. They were all the same because none of them mattered. They were all fucking nothing.

 

 _Tatti_ had tossed his badge and thrown away everything and thrown away nothing and now he was dead and everything had changed but nothing had change and Bucky was going to-

 

Something collided with his face, and Bucky collapsed onto the cold cobble of the street. His ears were ringing, and his vision zoomed in and out for a moment.

 

“I said no touching!” the German soldier shouted, spit flying into Bucky’s throbbing face as he waved the gun that he’d just slammed into Bucky’s head.

 

Bucky touched his forehead and felt something warm and drippy.

 

“Back up!”

 

Bucky scrambled backwards, mute with compliance, head lowered in shame.

 

Because he was nothing.

 

“Stand. You’re making a spectacle.”

 

Bucky got to his feet, muscles trembling. He couldn’t look up. He stared down at his feet, and he didn’t even have the decency to feel like crying. It was all so meaningless that he couldn’t even fucking cry.

 

“Now _go_.”

 

Bucky ducked his head down down down and turned around, somehow managing to glide home.

 

“Yaakov!” his mother exclaimed the instant she saw him, and she and Rivkah immediately forgot their argument. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

 

“ _Tatti’s_ dead,” Bucky said.

 

 _Mami’s_ expression shuttered. Rivkah went perfectly still. “What.”

 

“They shot him in the head for taking off his badge.”

 

 _Mami_ turned her back on him, and Bucky watched distantly as her narrow shoulders scrunched up around her neck. “Where.”

 

“Two blocks east.”

 

She marched out the door, not looking back. Bucky stared at his feet.

 

He felt Rivkah’s stiff gaze on him for a moment before she was following _Mami_ into the streets, both of them unable to trust Bucky’s word for themselves, both needing to see.

 

Bucky sat down under the table and tried to physically melt into the warped wood.

 

He relished in the feeling of blood dripping steadily down his face.

 

* * *

 

 

The house was quiet when all hell continued to break loose.

 

Bucky was vaguely aware that no one in the entire city had slept the night through. Bucky had spent the night sitting under the table, staring blankly at nothing, not seeing. _Mami_ probably cried. Rivkah was probably about ready to snap with anger- she was always quicker to anger than heartbreak. Lizaveta was probably just confused and worried.

 

Bucky was blank.

 

He’d been blank his whole life, but he was now beginning to accept it. He was a number. He’d represent a blip in the human population’s brief decline when this whole persecution was said and done. He couldn’t bring himself to care either. His father was already an insignificant part of that blip.

 

Dawn broke loudly.

 

Rivkah wandered out of their room, stepping onto the porch in only her underclothes in the frigid October air. She gazed dispassionately at the street while Bucky tried half-heartedly to bring himself to care about what was going on.

 

Bucky blinked, and the sun was starting to creep into the sky. Rivkah tugged at his arm. “We have to leave.”

 

Bucky didn’t say anything. He crawled out from under the table, looking around at what was left of his family.

 

They were all so skinny and tired.

 

Lizaveta reached for his hand and Bucky let their fingers thread together.

 

They left the house that Bucky had lived in his whole life.

 

They gathered around the Temple with the other Jews while Rivkah tried to get answers. Bucky paid vague attention. They were evacuating the Jews from the city or something. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

 

The atmosphere of the streets bubbled with anxiety. The wind was biting and ripped straight through Bucky’s disheveled clothes that were still streaked with his father’s blood. Lizaveta didn’t let go of his hand.

 

The sun climbed a little bit higher in the sky. They didn’t find answers.

 

 _Mami_ sat down in front of the Temple with some of her friends. He could hear them praying- whispering the Kaddish in soft voices that made Bucky want to shake them.

 

Rivkah didn’t stop pestering poor folks about what was happening. Nobody knew. Everyone was confused and scared.

 

By the time morning was truly upon them, Rivkah was vibrating with rage. “Nobody knows a goddamn thing,” she snapped, raking her hands through her thick curls.

 

“Leave them be. We’re all going to suffer the same fate at the end of the day. No need to get mad at them.”

 

“You’re right. I need to talk to some fucking soldiers.”

 

“No,” Bucky said, fear suddenly bleeding through his deadened nerves.

 

Rivkah glared fiercely at him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

 

“You are not going to talk to the fucking soldiers.”

 

“Stop fighting,” Lizaveta said, her lip trembling. She was scared. They were scaring her.

 

Rivkah deflated slightly. “Sorry,” she said to Lizaveta, ignoring Bucky.

 

Lizaveta looked up at Bucky with her sad eyes. “I want to go home. It’s _cold_.”

 

“I know, Liza,” Bucky said tiredly. He pulled off his thin jacket and knelt down to wrap it around Lizaveta’s thin shoulders. She was swimming in the threadbare fabric. Bucky buttoned it up so that it wouldn’t fall off of her.

 

“I look funny,” Lizaveta complained, wrinkling her nose and holding up her arms to show Bucky the abundance of empty sleeve.

 

Bucky adjusted the collar a little bit, trying not to shiver at the next gust of wind. “You look like royalty.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then settled down to sit on his ass. He was tired of standing. Lizaveta sat on his lap, and Bucky wrapped an arm around her torso to keep her close.

 

If he was going to die soon, it’d be protecting his little sisters. He’d fight to his last goddamn breath to trade his life for theirs.

 

Rivkah watched them sadly, refusing to sit down next to them. She was laden with enough tension that she’d probably strain a muscle. She wanted to fight.

 

Bucky wondered if Rivkah would’ve wanted to be a soldier if she’d been a man and actually believed in the cause their country was fighting for. Probably. Bucky wondered if Allied armies accepted women into their ranks. But all he’d known for his entire life was the cold oppression of Romania.

 

“Braid my hair,” Lizaveta said, shifting around in Bucky’s lap.

 

Bucky had done this enough times that he didn’t really have to concentrate as he wound brown hair together in a braid that would begin to fall apart as soon as Bucky was finished tying it off.

 

The sun set a contrast to the biting wind, and a man shouted in Romanian, “Attention!”

 

The crowd fell silent. Bucky didn’t move.

 

The man looked over them with disgust. “A ghetto has been established in the Jewish quarter. All of you will report to the ghetto by six o’clock. If any Jew is found outside the ghetto after six o’clock, the Jew will be shot and killed. Jews are only permitted to take with them the possessions that they can carry on their person. Any possessions Jews leave behind will be property of the State. Christians are not permitted to accept any possession of value from the Jews.”

 

Rivkah was going to burst at the seams with anger one of these days. Bucky let the statement wash over him like everything else. If Rivkah was fire, Bucky was ice. The wind whipped through the streets.

 

There was a lot of fearful blubbering after the announcement. Bucky let it wash over him. _Mami_ cried. Lizaveta didn’t let go of his hand. Rivkah clenched her fists so tightly that her nails drew blood from her palms.

 

 _Mami_ had already packed everything they could fit into one bag the night before, so all there was left to do was report to the ghetto.

 

Bucky had been to the Jewish quarter loads of times. Avi lived there. Bucky had always sort of wanted to move there. He thought it was safer.

 

Nothing was safe anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark and horrible.

 

A tired-looking widow had accepted twenty people into her small apartment, and now they were all trying to sleep. Bucky was sitting against the wall, and Lizaveta had passed out from exhaustion in his lap. Bucky ran his hand through her hair every now and then, disentangling the half undone braid.

 

Rivkah was curled in the fetal position next to him, not even trying to sleep.

 

“Think we’re gonna die tomorrow?” she finally whispered.

 

Bucky lifted a shoulder. “I think they’ll probably try to kill us soon, if not tomorrow.”

 

Rivkah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you scared?”

 

“No. I’m tired.”

 

Rivkah was quiet for a while. “I think I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

 

Bucky gave her a serious look. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

Rivkah frowned at him. “Protect yourself first, Yaakov.”

 

“No.”

 

Rivkah sighed, and someone coughed nearby. The room was stuffy and suffocating, but it was better than the cold wind of the streets. “If we weren’t Jewish, do you think we’d be standing by?”

 

“You wouldn’t,” Bucky said simply. “You’d stand in front of a gun and demand justice.”

 

“And you?”

 

“I’d sit at home and pray the whole thing would blow over.”

 

Rivkah nodded. She looked sad, but she knew it was true. “Liza deserves to live.”

 

“Nobody deserves to die, Rivkah.”

 

“Hitler.”

 

Bucky pursed his lips. “Okay, yes, Hitler does,” he conceded.

 

“When even the most pacifist person on the planet thinks someone deserves to die, they fucking deserve to die,” Rivkah said, a hint of a smile twitching their lips.

 

“Pacifist,” Bucky echoed. He’d never thought the word before.

 

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

 

“I guess,” Bucky said.

 

Rivkah studied him for a moment. “You and I are opposites, you know.”

 

“Yeah. Fire and ice, I think.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They tapered into silence, although their quiet whispers had almost been silent too.

 

“If we die tomorrow, know that I love you, okay?” Rivkah said, looking embarrassed.

 

Bucky smiled. “I love you too. You know that.”

 

“I do,” Rivkah agreed. She shifted. “How do you deal with it all? I know you’re pacifist through-and-through. I just- how do you justify it?”

 

“Bloodshed doesn’t justify bloodshed,” Bucky said. “And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter.”

 

“Existentialist, much?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “It doesn’t matter. I’d rather die with clean hands than live with stained ones.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“If such a thing as a legacy existed for an insignificant Jew in an insignificant war, I’d want mine to be clean,” Bucky finally said, giving words to his muddled thoughts.

 

“That’s certainly a different way to think about things.”

 

“What about you?” Bucky asked. “How do you justify yourself?”

 

Rivkah smiled sharply. “I’d rather go down swinging. I want to fight for what’s right. And if a legacy could exist for me, I’d want mine to scream that I at least tried to make things a little bit better.”

 

Bucky nodded. He knew this already about Rivkah. But that didn’t mean giving voice to thoughts wasn’t healthy. This was healthy. It may postpone the moment that Rivkah would finally snap with her anger. “You’ve got a lot of fight in you.”

 

“And that’s not going away,” Rivkah promised. “Even if they kill me tomorrow.”

 

It was a good thing Bucky was planning on dying first. He didn’t know if he’d be able to live through Rivkah’s death.

 

He knew he couldn’t.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The deportations started by street.

 

There had been brief word that they weren’t going to be deported, but Bucky wasn’t sure if they’d just lied or if he’d interpreted things incorrectly. It was okay, though. They all knew this was coming from the beginning.

 

They took streets away by train, leaving scores of homes empty and eerie.

 

The water stopped working. Bucky had never thought that going to the fucking bathroom would be difficult, but here he was.

 

Nights passed in slow, numb misery. _Mami_ barely spoke anymore, grieving the death of her husband. Bucky and Lizaveta were scared into silence.

 

And Rivkah.

 

Rivkah was about to snap.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky walked back to the apartment with his head down, clutching the food he’d found tightly under his coat.

 

“Hey,” a soldier shouted in Romanian, and Bucky stopped in dread, not looking up. “Come over here, Jew boy.”

 

Bucky gritted his teeth and shuffled over to the soldier.

 

The soldier grabbed his shoulder roughly. “Where’d you get this coat?”

 

“Bought it a few years ago,” he mumbled.

 

“I don’t believe you. Jews always steal. Did you make a transaction with a Christian? Did you swindle them? Did you steal this too?”

 

Bucky stayed silent. It was better not to argue.

 

“I asked you a direct question. Answer me.”

 

“No, sir,” Bucky said.

 

“I don’t believe you.” He regarded Bucky coldly. “Give me the coat.”

 

Bucky paused for half a second before slowly slipping the coat off his shoulders, juggling the hunk of bread as he mechanically passed his coat to the soldier.

 

“Justice tastes like shit, doesn’t it Jew boy?” the soldier sneered.

 

Bucky set his jaw so that he wouldn’t respond.

 

“Answer me.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

 

“Tough shit. You deserve everything that comes to you.” The soldier grabbed him by the arm and slammed his knee up into Bucky’s sternum. The breath whooshed out of Bucky’s lungs and he crumpled around the knee. The soldier let him collapse to the dirty ground. Then, he stepped on the small of Bucky’s back. “Get up.”

 

Bucky gasped for breath and tried to prop himself up on one elbow. The soldier kicked him down.

 

Then he stepped away and let Bucky get to his feet. “Get out of my sight.”

 

Bucky hurried back to the apartment, clutching the bread to his chest, trying to disguise the pain in his ribs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were ushered to the train station en masse.

 

Lizaveta was gripping his hand tight enough for it to bruise, and Bucky just squeezed back, trying not to admit that the first legitimate emotion he’d felt in days was terror.

 

He didn’t want to get on the train.

 

He didn’t want any of this.

 

Rivkah walked in front of them, her spine ramrod straight. Bucky could tell. Bucky should’ve known that this would be it.

 

Because it was always his sister, every single time.

 

A soldier shoved her towards the train, and she whipped around to him, her fists clenched in fury.

 

Bucky’s heart hammered into his throat, and he let go of Lizaveta’s hand, passing her off to _Mami_ in record time while Lizaveta made a displeased noise.

 

The soldier glared at Rivkah. “Move along.”

 

Rivkah raised her chin and spat, “Make me, you bastard.”

 

The soldier narrowed his eyes and reached for the gun at his hip.

 

Bucky launched himself in front of Rivkah, shoving her behind him, his heart pounding aggressively.

 

The soldier watched him, more curious than angry. “And who are you?”

 

Bucky drew up his shoulders, trying to hide Rivkah behind him even as she tried to edge around him. Bucky blocked her. “She didn’t mean it.”

 

“Sounded like she did.”

 

“She didn’t. I told her to say it.”

 

The soldier didn’t believe him.

 

“Yaakov,” Rivkah hissed, her voice tight. Bucky shot a look over his shoulder, and her eyes were wild and half-desperate.

 

Bucky swallowed heavily. “I did. I told her to call you a Romanian bastard. You’re all filthy.” He forced the words out, condemning himself to hell while Rivkah stared at him in horror.

 

The soldier obviously called his bluff, and he broke out into a wide smile. He looked back at another soldier, not too far off, and said, “I think this is the one,” jabbing a finger in Bucky’s direction.

 

The other soldier looked skeptical. “For the Doctor?” he asked doubtfully, eyeing Bucky up-and-down.

 

The initial soldier just nodded. He grabbed Bucky’s bicep and yanked him forward. Rivkah made a pained noise.

 

“You’re coming with us.”

 

Bucky’s throat closed with panic. He threw Rivkah a look, and her face was devastated. “Please, Yaakov-“

 

Bucky forced himself to swallow and forced the words past his lips, “Any day. I would choose this. Any day.”

 

“Enough,” the soldier said.

 

“No!” Rivkah shouted, but _Mami_ grabbed her and somehow managed to hold her back. She was already crying. Already mourning. Lizaveta stared at him, her little mouth open in shock.

 

“Any day,” Bucky repeated, his eyes combing over his family. Quite possibly for the last time.

 

The soldier clubbed him with his gun- not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to stun him. They dragged him away from the mass of miserable Jews.

 

“Yaakov!” Lizaveta called, looking incredibly stricken for a girl so young.

 

Rivkah made an enraged noise, and of course she would turn to anger. But there was a small blessing in his mother’s sudden strength, and she held her back with a tear-streaked face.

 

The soldiers shoved his head down, and Bucky lost sight of them.

 

They threw him into a train cart.

 

Bucky landed on his elbows and ass, breaking skin with the impact.

 

The doors to the train shut menacingly behind him.

 

Bucky glanced around at the other people in here. At least it wasn’t crowded.

 

A girl grabbed his arm and helped him settle next to her on the wall of the cart. She smiled at him without feeling. “You too, huh?” she said.

 

Bucky blinked in shock. It had all happened so fast.

 

“What did they get you for?” the guy next to her asked. “They got us because we’re twins.”

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, voice dead to his ears.

 

“I’m Wanda,” the girl said, then gestured to the guy next to her. “This is Pietro.”

 

Pietro gave him a sarcastic salute.

 

Bucky swallowed roughly. “I’m Yaakov.”

 

“That’s a very Jewish name,” Wanda observed.

 

Bucky offered them a self-deprecating shrug. “Well."

 

“You doing okay?” Pietro asked disinterestedly.

 

Bucky looked down at himself. He’d just been separated from what remained of his family, and the last image he had of them would be stained behind his eyelids for the rest of his most definitely short life. “Been better,” he said, his voice cracking.

 

Wanda and Pietro exchanged knowing glances.

 

Bucky cleared his throat, shoving everything down and away. His eyes were so dry that they stung. But he wasn’t allowed to cry. His case wasn’t special. He was just one of many people in this goddamn massacre who’d been separated from his family before they got to die together.

 

“No talking,” a German soldier said.

 

Everyone fell silent.

 

Bucky closed his eyes, and he at last let the nothingness seep deep into his bones where it belonged.

 

“Where are you taking us?” asked someone brave enough to still speak.

 

The soldier must’ve been in an incredible mood because all he did was kick the person who’d asked the question half-heartedly before saying, “To the Doctor,” which was vague enough to not be an answer at all.

 

Wanda and Pietro bent their heads together and clasped their hands between each other.

 

Bucky hung his head and tuned out the roaring, deafening sound of the train. Everything was nothing in his head, and when he blinked, he was finally far away.

 

And the nothingness clung to his bones like a well-worn second skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise on an updating schedule, but in the meantime, [I'm on tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecommodoresquid)


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